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CHAPTER X
Lastly how the nightingale sang and how Paulo fell asleep.
AND he was gone. Then from her green retreat
The nightingale in song made question where
Had gone her lover,–sweet–so sweet–so sweet.
She whistled it along the stubble bare,
Gurgled it with the water’s rippling flow,
Whispered it with the birch leaves through the air.
Then paused awhile. And then; subdued and slow,
She questioned all the light clouds one by one,
Then, trilling high, she told the winds her love.
Then she bewailed him to the moon, that shone
Gleaming on stones, shimmering on grasses deep,
And, in the dusky room, lit soft upon
The white-haired painter, fallen into sleep.
